


Spice Up Your Sex Life

by LizzieCarlton



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Semi-Crack, Sex Games, Sexting, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieCarlton/pseuds/LizzieCarlton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft stumbles across a ‘spice up your sex life’ article in one of Anthea’s magazines, and decides to try a few tips out on his husband. Some work better than others. Ahem… semi-crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Top Secret

Mycroft sighed, crossing his legs and stared without interest out of the plane window. Outside, the expanse of endless white cloud was doing little to alleviate the boredom. The rustling of pages caught his attention and he turned in his seat to see Anthea flicking through a shiny magazine. He sniffed disapprovingly, but examined the cover all the same.

 _7 Signs He’s Good in Bed…_ he read silently, raising his eyebrows. The other articles seemed equally dull… _50 High Street Fashion Finds… Lose 7lbs in 7 days… Get Long Hair Fast._ He rolled his eyes as Anthea turned another page, apparently entirely absorbed, and tilted his head for a better look at the cover. _How to Spice Up Your Sex Life_ was emblazoned in hot pink letters across the bottom of the page. Tutting, he turned back to look out of the window. Ridiculous. 

Although… things with Gregory _had_ been a little stale recently. They’d been married for five years and, whilst things had started off heatedly enough, all of a sudden they were having predictably vanilla sex only once a week. Which wasn’t at all enough, as far as Mycroft was concerned. Just the sight of his husband dripping wet and half naked after his morning shower was still enough to make him want to remain in bed for the rest of the day. 

He chewed on his lip, and tugged at his trousers a little, subtly trying to give himself some more space. For another five minutes he stared blandly at the window, the rustling of pages preying mercilessly on his peace of mind. He tapped his foot restlessly. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to seek a little advice. With a heavy sigh he eventually turned to his assistant and decided to sacrifice his pride. He cleared his throat. 

Anthea looked up at him immediately, but didn’t put aside the magazine, ‘yes, Sir?’ she asked.

Mycroft could feel his ears turning pink. ‘May I… borrow that?’ he asked carefully.

If Anthea wasn’t so entirely indispensable to his work, the smirk on her face would have left her unemployed in a matter of minutes. As it was he smiled calmly and reached out a hand, wiggling his fingers in a beckoning gesture.

Still grinning, Anthea closed the magazine, glancing curiously at the cover, before putting it into his outstretched hand. ‘If you’re looking for the Ryan Gosling photoshoot,’ she said, clearly trying not to laugh, ‘it’s on page 43’

Mycroft shot her a dangerous look, smoothing the cover and pretending to examine it with casual nonchalance. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Opening the magazine to the contents page, he scanned through, heart beating a little quickly. He settled on the ‘sex and love’ section, feeling his blush deepen. But, aha, there it was- page… 69. He frowned, wondering if they’d done that on purpose, specifically to make this whole affair even more embarrassing for him. He flicked through at speed, ignoring the titillating glimpse of a shirtless actor before reaching the page he’d been searching for. 

Glancing up guiltily, he saw Anthea straining in her seat to try and get a glimpse of what he was looking at.

‘Stop that,’ he snapped, with a scowl.

She smiled, ‘Of course, Sir,’ she said, but raised a suggestive eyebrow before turning in her seat and beginning to file her nails.

Ignoring his assistant’s impudence, Mycroft turned back to the article and began to read. 

Anthea watched from the corner of her eye, smirking as her boss’s eyebrows seemed to stretch ever higher the more he read.

Mycroft didn’t think he’d ever read anything quite so engaging… which was something of a concern given the fact documents marked _top secret_ landed on his desk nearly every day. By the time he’d finished he wasn’t sure whether to feel aroused, amused or baffled. But either way, he was determined to give this thing a go. It would certainly make things more interesting, and anything that got Gregory into bed with him was more than worth a little embarrassment. 

He smiled, contentedly, filing the most interesting tips away for future reference. They all seemed quite promising, although he had never really understood the fascination for using food in the bedroom. Still… he could imagine his husband would look rather ravishing, stretched out naked and covered in whipped cream. Looking up to check Anthea was still otherwise engaged, he casually flicked back through the glossy magazine in search of page 43.

‘Can I have that back yet?’ Anthea asked him eventually.

Mycroft jumped slightly, realising he had been staring at the same photo for the past five minutes. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Yes, of course.’ Snapping the pages closed, he handed back the magazine.

They sat in silence as Anthea returned to her browsing.

‘Would you like me to read your horoscope?’ she asked a while later, evidently still amused.

‘No, thank you,’ Mycroft lied. This was a business trip, not a girls’ night in.

‘Your loss. It’s very promising.’

‘Hm…’ he feigned reluctance, ‘go on then.’

 _‘Expect a memorably romantic weekend as the stars align.’_ She raised her eyebrows suggestively. _‘Muse aloud with your love about what might be as fate fuels those fantasies about the future. From sailing around the world to choosing the names of your someday children, no topic is off limits. It’s time to cross boundaries and try new things’_ Anthea giggled as she finished, ‘…looks like Gregory is in for quite a week.’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft smirked, ‘he certainly is.’


	2. Keep it Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft thinks he knows how to get a man's attention.

_**Keep it pretty**  
First things first, it's impossible to have great sex if you don't feel sexy, so treat yourself to a blowout or some new lingerie, whatever is needed to put the "va-va-voom" back into your step._

Mycroft put his plan into action as soon as the plane landed, casually asking Anthea to make him an immediate appointment with his tailor. It had certainly been far too long since he’d treated himself to a new suit… and he knew Gregory enjoyed his formal attire.

Bidding Anthea goodbye, he slipped into the sleek black car awaiting him outside the airport, instructing the driver to stop at Savile Row on the way home. As he relaxed into the black leather seat and watched London flash by, Mycroft closed his eyes contentedly, indulging in a flashback to the evening of their first date. He remembered the way Gregory had tugged on his tie and pulled at his waistcoat buttons. It had been a truly erotic experience. 

The car drew to a halt and he instructed the driver to wait before slipping out into the cool, late-afternoon air. A steady drizzle was falling, and Mycroft hurriedly opened his umbrella before making his way to the welcoming doors of Gieves and Hawkes.

Inside the air was pleasantly warm. It smelt like cinnamon and clove. Mycroft breathed in deeply. His tailor rushed forward to welcome him as soon as he entered the door.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Holmes,’ he said, reverently, almost bowing. ‘How may I help you?’

Mycroft smiled at him as he shook his umbrella free of rain water. ‘I find myself in need of a rather special new suit.’

The tailor looked fit to burst with excitement. Mycroft was known for his extravagance. ‘Certainly, Sir,’ he nodded, ‘if you know what you’re looking for, we can have it measured and made for you in a matter of a few short weeks.’

Mycroft shook his head, a little distracted by a royal navy uniform on proud display in the corner of the shop. He wondered briefly if Gregory would be interested in role play ‘…no, no. That’s far too long, I’m afraid.’

‘It is?’ the tailor asked, looking put out. ‘Well in special circumstances we could probably manage ten days?’

‘Too long,’ Mycroft repeated, peering at the nearest rail. He wanted better sex now thank you very much. ‘It will have to be ready to wear.’

‘…Ready to wear?’ The tailor wrinkled his nose.

‘Absolutely,’ Mycroft nodded, waving his umbrella at the rails of suits, ‘I’m looking for something sleek, sophisticated and…well…’ he paused, _what was tailor speak for sexy?_ ‘…dapper.’

Realisation seemed to dawn in his tailor’s eyes, ‘Oh, I _see_.’ He nodded, ‘Well Sir, I’m sure we can find something to meet all your needs.’ 

If Mycroft didn’t know better he could have sworn the man had winked. Frowning, he did his best to look condescending. ‘Show me the best you’ve got,’ he said. 

***

Mycroft gave his reflection a critical once-over. Not bad. Not bad at all in fact… for ready to wear. He smoothed down the suit jacket one last time and straightened the crisp new tie before twisting around to open the curtain. 

‘What do you think?’ he asked, turning back to the mirror. 

‘The cut of the trousers is most flattering,’ his tailor told him, looking at his arse for a little too long Mycroft thought. ‘But may I suggest a different shirt?’

Frowning, Mycroft plucked at the pink poplin dress shirt. Yes, perhaps it was a little too camp. ‘You may,’ he nodded briskly, undoing the matching pink tie, ‘perhaps something in blue?’

Mycroft left Gieves and Hawkes resplendent in a brand new three piece suit. He paused to admire himelf in the car’s tinted window before sliding back inside. Without wanting to sound conceited he thought he definitely had… what was it?... _va-va-voom._

The suit was of a soft grey wool and silk blend, with matching waistcoat. He wore a crisp new shirt- white and indigo stripes- and the look was completed by a navy blue tie patterned with tiny white polka dots. He was certain Gregory would be unable to resist him and faded into daydreams of being swept up in his lover’s arms and thrown mercilessly down onto their king’s size bed. 

Gregory would remove one layer at a time with perfect precision, pausing to lick at any bare skin revealed. He’d take time and care over the buttons and murmur compliments into Mycroft’s ear. Maybe he’d even use the new tie in order to bind Mycroft’s hands to the headboard. He shifted in excitement in the seat, looking anxiously out of the window as they drew nearer their London home. 

By the time he reached the front door his heart was beating quickly in anticipation, he checked his watch before retrieving his keys… 6pm. Gregory should be home. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. The house was quiet… he closed the door carefully behind him, setting his bags on the floor and pausing to check his reflection in the hall mirror.

‘Gregory?’ he called, hesitantly, straightening his tie for the fiftieth time.

‘In here, love,’ came the response.

 _Love:_ an affectionate endearment, certainly, but hardly one to arouse the passions. Mycroft tutted to himself and pushed open the living room door, to see his husband sprawled out on the sofa drinking a bottle of beer. A foul drink. He resisted the urge to shudder.

Gregory turned to look at him as he walked in, and Mycroft waited with baited breath for the inevitable onslaught of sexual attention. The smile he received was indeed promising. Mycroft smiled back, taking a step forwards. Any moment now his husband would leap off the sofa and ravish him over the coffee table. 

But… no. Greg turned back to the book he was reading, a frown of concentration on his face. Feeling a little discouraged, Mycroft moved in front of the sofa to give the man a better view. He made a pretence of fiddling with his new cufflinks… they were a sartorial triumph- small spheres of polished silver gleaming in bright contrast to the grey of his suit. He waited.

Greg glanced up at him, and then at the space next to him on the sofa, removing his bare feet from it encouragingly. ‘You gonna sit down, love?’ he asked.

Mycroft smiled at him and made a show of unbuttoning his suit jacket before sitting down next to him on the brown suede sofa. He imagined a long, languid make-out session would follow, before their growing arousal forced them to retreat for a vigorous round in the bedroom. 

Instead… Gregory returned to his book. Sighing, Mycroft removed it from his hands, ignoring the growl of irritation he received. Perhaps a more direct approach was necessary. He curled closer to his husband and moved a hand to the man’s cheek, before kissing him softly on the lips.

Pulling back slightly, he raised a suggestive eyebrow before gesturing at his own freshly clothed body. ‘What do you think?’ he smiled.

‘What do I think of what?’ Greg asked, taking a long swig of beer.

Mycroft frowned. Could his husband possibly have failed to notice that he had bought a new suit specifically for his sexual pleasure? Or was this all an elaborate tease designed to make their later love making all the more thrilling?

He decided on the second option, and ran a hand up Gregory’s thigh. ‘You know what.’

Gregory looked baffled. ‘I do?’ he asked, in evident confusion, crinkling his forehead. ‘You might have to explain.’

Mycroft stared at him in disbelief. One did not simply spend a £1000 on improving their sex life and then have to explain that they wanted to improve their sex life. He scowled, and pulled away, handing Gregory back his book and leaving the room. Retreating to his study, he decided to spend the evening in a deep sulk until his husband deigned to notice the extent, not to mention the expense, of his efforts. 

Four hours later, he was still staring at the same piece of paperwork.

A soft knock on the door finally pulled him from his thoughts. Ah, he thought, it appeared Gregory had finally decided to make his apologies. Perhaps the evening would end romantically after all. Spinning in his seat, he raised an eyebrow at his husband as he entered the door.

‘You coming to bed?’ Greg asked him with a barely concealed yawn.

 _Finally._ So his husband hadn’t noticed his new suit. It wasn’t the end of the world. Gregory could still spend the night fucking him into the mattress. He put his paperwork aside and stood up, wrapping his arms around his lover as he reached the door. Their lips met softly and Mycroft moaned into the kiss as warm hands slipped underneath his new suit jacket. He bit down gently on Greg’s lip, sucking it into his mouth and pressing him up against the doorframe. Their tongues met in heated passion and Mycroft slipped a hand down to grope at Gregory’s arse, pushing their hips together in order to make his growing arousal more obvious.

Firm hands landed on his shoulders, holding him back. Mycroft rolled his eyes, ‘now, what?’ he snapped, trying to push forwards to resume kissing.

‘Um..’ Gregory began, as he wriggled out from Mycroft’s grasp. ‘I’m a bit tired, love.’

Mycroft took a shaky step backwards, unable to believe his own husband had just rejected his advances. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘I need my sleep,’ Greg explained affectionately, landing a chaste kiss on his cheek. ‘But I promise to make it up to you.’

Mycroft shook his head, barely registering the last words. It simply wouldn’t do. It wasn’t good enough. Was he really expected to make all the effort in this relationship? He turned his back on his husband, returning to his desk. 

‘Are you coming to bed?’ Gregory repeated, sounding concerned.

‘No.’ Mycroft snapped, ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa.’

Without a doubt, it was time to increase his efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Mycroft's hard work yields better results very soon...  
> 


	3. 'Flirting'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want you- MH

_**Flirt with each other**  
Make a habit of sending playful, sexy messages to him throughout the day. Make him salivate with anticipation by telling him what you're wearing and what you want to do to him later._

Within a couple of days, after infinite cups of tea and a few secret cigarettes, Mycroft had managed to forgive his husband and was ready to try a new tact. It was time for something a little more direct. The new suit lay abandoned on the floor of their walk-in wardrobe, but Mycroft had taken special care with his appearance today. What he had in mind might require him to reveal details of his attire. 

Having kissed Gregory goodbye and arrived at work as usual, he was anxious to begin. He stared at his phone all morning, itching to tap out a message capable of driving his husband wild. Admittedly, he had little experience with sexting, but honestly, how difficult could it be? By the time lunchtime arrived he could wait no longer, and he neglected the plate of sandwiches Anthea brought him in favour of carefully formulating his first text.

I want you- MH

 _Simple, concise, effective,_ he thought. With a small smile he lay his phone carefully on the table before him and awaited a response.

Good to know- GL

Mycroft frowned as he received the message, sensing a definite lack of enthusiasm. Was Gregory taking him seriously? Or had he merely failed to realise the true intent of his words? He decided it would be best to clarify.

To fuck me, that is- MH

Pressing _send,_ he sighed deeply. This was a truly vulgar exercise. He was fully expecting to be thoroughly compensated in bed that evening. His phone buzzed.

Oh! Wow. Also good to know- GL

Mycroft shook his head disbelievingly, beginning to get impatient. 

Make an effort, Gregory- MH

An effort? Are we sexting now?- GL

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft tapped out a sniffy response. 

I am.- MH

Sorry. What are you wearing?- GL

Mycroft smirked at the message. This was much more like it. Suddenly, everything was going according to plan. He looked down at his clothing, glad he’d chosen carefully that morning.

A dove-grey three-piece suit, a royal blue tie, a crisp white shirt and polished leather shoes- MH

If _that_ didn’t get his husband aroused, then nothing could.

Sexy. Underwear?- GL

A little crude, Mycroft thought, but he replied all the same…

Yes. Black, Egyptian cotton- MH

…

Time passed, the ticking of the clock doing nothing to ease Mycroft’s nerves. Where was Gregory’s response? Had he done something wrong? Broken some universally acknowledged ‘sexting’ rule? He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk, checking his inbox for the hundredth time. Perhaps Gregory had written a response, but had sent it to the wrong person. That would certainly spice things up, but probably not in the way he’d hoped. When it all became too much he sent another short text, ignoring his wounded pride. 

Hello?- MH

Sorry. Triple homicide.- GL

Mycroft sniffed disapprovingly at Greg’s text, flinging his phone into his desk drawer and returning to the painfully dull paperwork on his desk, growing steadily sulkier. Were the criminals of London determined to destroy his sex life?

He waited two hours and then tried again. How long could it take to solve a few simple murders? What he needed… was to capture Gregory’s imagination. 

I want to blow you- MH 

He blushed a little as he typed. That wasn’t really the sort of text a gentleman should send. His mother would be horrified. Still, he found himself waiting with baited breath for the response.

That makes two of us. ;) – GL

Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes. What did he have to do to be taken seriously? Perhaps something a little more intimate… or something shockingly filthy…? He boosted up his laptop and loaded Google. 

‘Sexting’, he murmured aloud as he typed into the search bar before hitting enter nervously. After a few moments of anxious research he thought he had the general idea.

I’m aching to have you deep inside me.- MH

I’m aching to get there.- GL

Mycroft smiled; that was an improvement. He opened up a few more web pages, skim reading quickly. Nice and explicit, he thought.

I’m imagining you taking me here and now- MH

The reply was immediate. Smirking confidently, he opened the message:

I’d fuck you until you screamed and then come inside and all over you.- GL

Mycroft’s mouth fell open. He gawped at his phone for a couple of minutes fingers poised above the keys. Not really knowing how to reply, he decided that was probably enough ‘flirting’ for today. It wouldn't do for him to start wandering around the office with an erection. 

The day passed unbearably slowly, and by the time 5 ‘o’ clock arrived he was more than ready to go home. Halfway through packing up his briefcase his phone buzzed loudly as another text arrived.

Do you want to know what I’m wearing?- GL

Mycroft couldn’t help but feel rather smug. It appeared Gregory had caught on this whole ‘sexting’ malarkey rather quickly; perhaps it might be an area to explore in more detail. He already knew perfectly well what his husband was wearing, of course, having watched him dress that very morning, but he generously decided to play along all the same. 

Indulge me.- MH

Nothing at all.- GL

Mycroft’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh, my,’ he murmured out loud, causing Anthea to send him a curious glance as she brought his last cup of tea. He accepted the drink graciously, before returning to his phone. 

Isn't that a little distracting for your colleagues?- MH

He wondered exactly what Gregory was playing at.

I’m not at work.- GL

Ah. Of course not. He frowned, wondering what kind of situation would enable his husband to remove all his clothes.

Where are you?- MH

In our bed.- GL

Mycroft didn't think he’d ever moved so fast. He was out of his seat and into his coat within seconds, striding purposefully towards the office door. He pulled it closed behind him and beamed at Anthea.

‘Are you leaving, Sir?’

‘Yes, Anthea, I am,’ Mycroft said, pulling on his gloves. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

He paused as he opened the next door, before turning back to his assistant. ‘By the way…’ he continued, ‘that magazine you lent me has proved _most_ helpful.’ He nodded curtly, before disappearing from the room.

Left alone in the small reception, Anthea shuddered slightly. Apparently her boss still thought she had no idea what he had been reading on the plane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the article that inspired all this online by clicking right [here](http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/806584/sex-tips-to-make-longterm-sex-more-exciting)  
> It's well worth reading if you fancy a giggle, but be warned... _spoilers!_


	4. Set the Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft doesn't quite get what he expects...

_**Set the mood**  
Don't underestimate the power of lighting a few candles. Make sure your bedroom is sexy and doesn't have toys littering it. And turn off the tv._

Mycroft hummed contentedly as he strode down Oxford Street. On something of a high following the success of the ‘sexting’ experiment, he was more than eager to try out another tip. Although, having been so thoroughly shagged just the other night he was beginning to wonder whether if it was really necessary after all. Then he remembered the fact that Gregory had forgotten to kiss him goodbye that morning, and frowned seriously. It wouldn’t do to leave a job half done. 

He paused outside Whittard’s before venturing inside, deciding on a spot of tea shopping. Browsing the aisles he picked up a box of tea bags from the shelf, examining the back absentmindedly. What had the magazine advised? Make sure the bedroom is sexy. Mycroft chewed that over for a moment, moving on to examine a set of silver teaspoons. He had no idea how to make a bedroom sexy. He had no idea how to make _anything_ sexy, as his suit shopping had so blatantly revealed.

The magazine had recommended candles. Mycroft turned on his heel, looking around the shop. His eyes fell on a pleasingly handsome shop assistant and he approached him immediately, trying not to preen.

‘Excuse me,’ he smiled. ‘Do you have any candles?’ 

The boy shook his head, looking thoroughly bored. ‘Nope,’ he said with an unconcerned shrug, ‘try Tesco’s.’

_Try Tesco’s?_ Mycroft muttered to himself as he left the shop, a box of orange and rooibos tea tucked neatly under his arm. Had it really just been suggested that he shop in a supermarket? He sighed despairingly as he looked down the highstreet, in search of a shop that might sell candles. Anthea would know where to buy such things, but he wasn’t about to suffer her delight at being asked, or the knowing looks he’d inevitably receive for days afterwards. He continued on his walk, turning the corner and deciding to try Selfridges. 

…

That evening, Mycroft started to put his latest plan into action. With his husband settled on the sofa, and looking unlikely to move, he padded quietly into the bedroom. Taking care not to make any noise, and with the utmost precision, he arranged his newly purchased candles around the room. Striking a match he set them burning before turning off the electric light. He nodded to himself. Most adequate. Smoothing the bed covers, he tucked Gregory’s pyjamas out of sight before plumping the pillows.

Standing back to admire his work he silently congratulated himself, before checking his reflection in the mirror and going in search of his husband. 

Greg sat sifting half-heartedly through paperwork exactly were Mycroft had left him, his attention more on the television than on the documents before him. An episode of _Come Dine With Me_ was playing and on the screen a man was in hysterics, having dropped the chocolate mousse he’d just prepared for his dinner party. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Mycroft picked up the remote and turned the television off.

‘Oi!’ Greg exclaimed, dropping all pretence of looking at paperwork and twisting in his seat to frown at him ‘Turn that back on.’

Mycroft smiled patiently, ‘No, follow me.’ 

‘I’ve spent the last five years of my life following you,’ Greg grumbled, rising to his feet all the same ‘can I not just watch TV for a few minutes?’

…

Mycroft pulled his husband impatiently through the flat, before pushing him through the doorway to their room and waiting for the inevitably highly pleasurable response.

‘What did you do to the bedroom?’ Greg asked, looking as if Mycroft had set fire to it, rather than just lighting a few candles. 

Mycroft pressed his chest to his love’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist. ‘Do you like it?’ 

‘Um… yeah,’ Greg nodded, looking baffled, ‘but… you could have just _said_ if you wanted to have sex.’

Mycroft frowned, was it that obvious? He’d been aiming for seductive and romantic rather than _desperate for a shag_. Besides, one didn’t just ask for sex. Well, Gregory sometimes did. But Mycroft Holmes certainly didn’t. It was uncouth. He pulled the man around to face him and set to work on his shirt buttons, ‘that’s not the point.’

‘It isn’t?’

‘No.’ he said firmly, pushing Gregory’s shirt from his shoulders. ‘I’m encouraging spontaneity… ‘ he ran his hands over the firm chest before him, ‘... _romance._ ’

To prove his point he leaned in for a kiss, nibbling slightly on Greg’s lower lip. He suspected the kissing tips he’d picked up from Anthea’s magazine were probably going to be rather useful.

...

They lay tangled on the bed, fully undressed now and kissing roughly. Gregory’s weight pressed him down into the mattress as their hands strayed. It was all perfectly pleasant, Mycroft thought, but the candles weren’t really providing the passionate, exciting atmosphere he’d been promised. This was exactly what they always did. Gregory began trailing kisses down his chest, moving steadily lower until…

‘Don’t do that.’ Mycroft sat up in the bed to give his husband an admonishing look.

‘What?’ Greg asked, face flushed and mouth open, tongue millimetres away from the tip of Mycroft’s cock.

With a heavy sigh, Mycroft pushed his lover’s head back gently. ‘You always do that.’ 

‘You always like that.’

‘ _Spontaneity,_ Gregory.’

‘Can’t I suck your cock spontaneously?’ Greg asked with a frown, flickering his tongue out to lick at the thick length in his hand.

‘No.’ Mycroft replied firmly, ignoring the flutter of pleasure that ran through him. Closing his eyes, he lay back down again. ‘Do something more exciting.’

He hummed in approval as Gregory mouth trailed downwards to suck at his balls, rolling his tongue around them before licking gently behind them and then- Mycroft bolted. His eyelids flying open as he abruptly tried to sit back up. But a firm hand held him down on the bed… and meanwhile… was Gregory really going to… 

‘Oh! N-no. Not _that_ …’ He squirmed in horror, trying to wriggle free of his lover’s grasp as a hot, wet tongue slipped into… well, somewhere a tongue should never be. ‘Gregory!’

‘Mm-hm?’

‘Stop it. That’s…’- he whimpered- ‘…filthy.’

‘It’s spontaneous.’ Greg mumbled roughly from beneath him, slinging Mycroft’s legs over his shoulders, before returning to work. 

This wasn’t exactly the sort of romantic scenario Mycroft had pictured when he’d chosen the cinnamon scented candles in Selfridges. He’d had in mind a slow romantic massage. But there was something horribly erotic about having Gregory’s tongue… there. He closed his eyes and threw his head back into the pillows, still protesting faintly. 

‘You musn’t’ he mumbled weakly, even as he tangled his fingers in his husband’s hair keeping him firmly in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me smile ;)  
> If you fancy some Mystrade drabbles, I now have a tumblr where you can leave me a prompt if you like...  
> Find it [here...](http://drabblinginmystrade.tumblr.com)


	5. Just Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To fuck or not to fuck.  
>  _(Sorry!)_

_**Just kiss**  
Agree to place a ban on sex for a certain length of time and just kiss and focus on foreplay. Abstaining from sex has the added benefit of charging up both of your libidos._

‘I think we should stop having sex,’ Mycroft began over breakfast the next morning, buttering his toast as he spoke.

Greg choked on a mouthful of tea, shooting him an alarmed look. ‘What? Why?’

‘Not forever.’ Mycroft sighed impatiently. ‘For the next couple of weeks, perhaps?’ Would that be long enough? He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. Still… he had high hopes for this scheme.

‘Why?’ Greg repeated, looking baffled. 

‘Abstaining from sex has the benefit of charging the libido,’ he quoted.

Greg set his mug down on the table and folded his arms. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my libido!’

‘Of course not. I just thought it would make things a little more… exciting.’ He smiled encouragingly, pouring his husband another cup of tea. 

Shaking his head in evident confusion, Greg stood up, brushing off his suit. ‘I’ll be off to work then,’ he said, clearly attempting to inject some level of normalcy back into the conversation. 

Mycroft nodded, and offered his mouth to be kissed. Gregory paused a centimetre away from making contact and raised his eyebrows enquiringly. 

‘We can still kiss then?’ he teased.

‘Absolutely,’ Mycroft nodded. That was, after all, what this was all about. Creating excitement… encouraging foreplay… lusting after the forbidden, et cetera. Or so he assumed. Standing up, Mycroft pushed his husband roughly against the fridge, running one hand up and down his thigh as he crushed their lips hard together. He forced the other man’s mouth open with his tongue and pushed it demandingly inside. 

When he finally pulled back, he did so slowly, brushing a finger along Gregory’s jaw and licking his own lips in what he hoped was a seductive manner. 

‘Well, have a nice day,’ he said, taking a step back and smoothing his suit.

‘Yeah,’ Greg muttered, wide eyed and still splayed out against the fridge door. ‘Um…’ he moved warily around Mycroft to reach the kitchen door. ‘I’ll see you later.’

…

The next few days went surprisingly well, Mycroft thought. They had no sex at all, not even on Saturday. And they always had sex on Saturday. Kissing, meanwhile, had never been so much fun. He was having a splendid time figuring out ways to make his husband go wild. Although, disappointingly, a hand on his arse remained the most effective. 

At his desk on Monday morning, Mycroft smiled to himself contentedly, remembering how his husband had lustfully attempted to pull him back into bed that very morning. There was no doubt in his mind, not at all. He knew, for certain, that this experiment was turning into a real success.

It did cross his mind briefly, that refusing sex seemed a little counter-productive in a quest to get more of it. But that was, of course, merely a temporary set-back.

‘Are you okay, Sir?’ Anthea asked, peering round the door. 

‘Yes,’ he frowned, twirling a pen between his fingers. ‘Why?’

Anthea glanced hesitantly at the unopened files of work on the desk before him. ‘You seem a little… distracted.’  
Distracted? Mycroft chuckled, shooing Anthea away. A Holmes was never distracted. He brought his pen up to his mouth, running it along his lips, recalling the way Gregory had undressed in front of him as he’d changed for work.   
…

By Tuesday evening he had decided it was high time to begin developing their foreplay techniques. Flopping down on the sofa next to Greg, he began tracing small circles on his knee. His husband hummed in relaxed contentment. Mycroft feigned interest in the tedious television programme Greg had selected, his fingers creeping higher up the tempting expanse of thigh before him.

‘Um…’ Greg began uncertainly, as Mycroft’s hand finally came to rest on his crotch.

‘Yes, my love?’ Mycroft murmured, rubbing at the hardening cock trapped in its layers of clothing. He turned his head to start kissing his husband’s neck.

‘I thought we weren’t supposed to be having sex?’

‘We’re not.’ Mycroft mumbled, biting into the skin beneath his lips. He squeezed his eyes closed and breathed in deeply, his own growing arousal straining against the restrictive fabric of his trousers.

‘So… what are you doing?’ Greg asked, breathing heavily. He turned his head to capture Mycroft’s mouth in a kiss before he could answer.

Moaning into the kiss, Mycroft threw an arm around his husband’s neck, using the hold in order to pull himself up to straddle the man legs. ‘This is foreplay, Gregory,’ he explained, tugging at the zip on his lover’s trousers before pulling them open and slipped an eager hand inside. 

Greg’s fingers closed in a sudden, firm grip around his wrist. ‘You mean you’re going to feel me up but not let me come?’ he asked, incredulously. 

‘If you must be crude…’ Mycroft murmured, leaning in to bite at the other man’s ear. 

He frowned as Greg pushed him away with a ragged sigh. Falling back onto his own side of the sofa he looked up in confusion.

‘What did I do?’ he asked, desolately. 

‘It’s more what you’re not going to do.’ Greg explained. Standing up, he pulled his shirt off. ‘I think I’m going to go and have a shower.’

He left the room, leaving Mycroft quite alone on the sofa. Chewing his lip distractedly, he desperately ignored his own erection, and stared hard at the television. From the bathroom he heard the sound of running water, followed by a long, low moan. 

‘Bugger.’ He finally snapped. 

Getting to his feet, he went to join his husband in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos/comments. They make me happy!


	6. An Erotic Film

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d be home tomorrow. And tomorrow was a Friday. And Friday night was film night...

_**Watch an erotic film together**  
Choose something that will get you both in the mood. It doesn't have to be porn for it to be sexy._

Anthea was becoming increasingly irritated, Mycroft noticed. Understandably, he supposed, seeing as he wasn’t really concentrating. If it weren’t for his assistant’s hastily scribbled notes he’d have no idea what he’d be saying at this tedious conference. It had been a week. An entire week in Paris, the city of love… on his own. 

He was bored. He wanted his husband. He wanted sex with his husband. Everyone had sex in Paris, it was what the place was _for_. Even Anthea had found someone to entertain her, if today’s change in perfume was anything to go by. And here he was surrounded by the fussiest, straightest men in politics. He missed Rome. That had been much more fun. 

He thought back to Anthea’s magazine. What had the next suggestion been? Ah, yes… watch an erotic film together. He frowned at the pen he was twirling between his fingers as another painfully dull man began to talk. An erotic film. Wouldn’t that be a little embarrassing? Still, it might be worth giving a go. After all, what could be worse than sexting? That had been a truly degrading experiment. Yet… with enjoyable results. 

He smiled and nodded as Anthea answered a question on his behalf, and wondered which film to watch. The suggestions in the magazine had all been resoundingly heterosexual, and he had no intention of spending ninety minutes watching two Hollywood sweethearts fawn over each other in a sickening search for true love. But then again, they couldn’t exactly sit and watch _Brokeback Mountain_ together either… it would be unbearably camp. 

He wasn’t even sure if there really _were_ erotic films in the gay market. There was just porn. He sat in contemplation for a moment, ignoring the chancellor’s speech. Porn, he thought. Why not? He had watched porn. Gregory _still_ watched porn. Why not do it together? 

He’d be home tomorrow. And tomorrow was a Friday. And Friday night was film night. It would be the perfect opportunity. He leaned back in his chair, and smiled in satisfaction. It was always good to have a plan. 

... 

Anthea gave him reproachful looks on their way back to the hotel. He suspected he had left her with a little too much to do that week. But still, she was having sex. And he wasn’t. He couldn’t let her have all the luck. 

All the same, he invited her around to his room for a celebratory bottle of champagne as an apology. By the third glass Anthea had softened considerably, and they ended the night tucked under the covers in amicable peace, watching _Love, Actually_ on the room’s plasma screen. 

Once his assistant was snoring softly into the pillows, Mycroft pulled out his laptop. One couldn’t just walk into a shop and buy a porno. He’d have to do it online. Sighing, he loaded up Google, shooting a guilty sideways glance at Anthea as he did so, praying she wouldn’t wake up. 

Well… there certainly was quite an array of options. He browsed for a little while, before choosing once which seemed promising. With a relieved sigh, he placed the order and hurriedly closed down the laptop. Anthea shifted next to him, curling up on her side and burying her nose in his side.

He smiled affectionately, and lay down beside her… letting himself drift into sleep. 

… 

A DVD shaped parcel was waiting on the doormat when he finally got home. Barely pausing to kiss his husband hello, he hurried into his study to guiltily tear open the brown paper. He blushed as he looked at the cover. Someone had picked this out for him; put this in an envelope for him; seen his name on the order form. He reminded himself to use a pseudonym in future. 

That evening, after a Green Thai Curry and half a bottle of white wine, they settled down on the sofa to relax together. Only Mycroft didn’t feel particularly relaxed. In fact he felt rather anxious. He had not the slightest idea what Gregory would make of this plan. 

‘Film?’ Greg asked him, kissing him lightly on the nose. 

Mycroft nodded. It was now or never. 

'Load it up,’ Greg smiled, ‘I’ll make us a cuppa.’ 

Mycroft got to his feet as his husband left the room and scrambled underneath the sofa cushion for the DVD box he’d hidden there earlier. He hurried over to the television before he could change his mind, and taking a deep breath, opened the case and slipped the disc into the drive. Returning to the sofa, he shrugged off his suit jacket and attempted to look as casual as possible. Unable to wait, he lifted the remote and pressed play. His mouth fell open. 

‘Bloody hell, Mycroft!’ Greg exclaimed as he re-entered the room, carrying two teacups. He stared at the screen. ‘What the fuck is this?’ 

Mycroft waved the DVD case at him, before patting the sofa encouragingly, ignoring the speed with which his heart was beating in his chest. 

Greg raised his eyebrows, sitting down slowly, eyes not leaving the screen. He set the cups down on the coffee table. ‘I thought we were watching Jaws?’ 

‘I decided this might be more fun’ 

‘Did you?’ Greg asked, beginning to chuckle. 

‘Yes.’ 

There was an awkward silence as they both stared open mouthed at the television. Mycroft bit his lip, wondering if it was acceptable to unzip his trousers. Right now, they were feeling rather tight. He winced as the events unfurled on screen. _Oh, Lord._ Now _that_ just looked painful… although his body didn’t seem to share his uncertainty. 

Greg shifted uncomfortably on the sofa next to him. ‘Um… Mycroft?’ 

‘Mm-hm.’ 

‘Am I allowed to jerk off?’ 

‘No.’ Mycroft said immediately. This was about creating a mood, not about coming as quickly as possible. 

‘You want me to watch a porno without wanking?’ 

‘…Yes.’ He confirmed. 

On screen the young couple switched positions. Mycroft whimpered softly at what began to happen next. He decided it wouldn’t be inappropriate to unzip his trousers. And… well… now that his hand was there anyway… 

‘Can I jerk _you_ off instead?’ Greg asked. 

Mycroft sighed and shifted closer. Time to admit defeat. 

'Okay.’ 


	7. An Adult Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft has a twisted sense of fun...

**_Sex Games_**  
 _Sex games are a great way to help you feel hot. Make it a kinky evening full of steamy activity, and you’ll both feel ready to tumble._

Mycroft hummed quietly to himself as he worked. His office was flooded with light, and outside it was the first truly warm day in months. He had, of course, brought his umbrella just in case. It wouldn’t do to be caught unawares. 

There was a brief tap on the door, before Anthea walked in. ‘Parcel for you,’ she explained, sounding unusually cheerful.

‘Mm, thank you.’ Absorbed in paperwork, Mycroft didn’t look up as the box was placed on his desk. When he realised Anthea wasn’t going anywhere, he looked up in concern. ‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.

‘Not at all,’ Anthea said calmly. She raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the parcel.

Mycroft followed her gaze. _Ah._ The box was a deep burgundy red, decorated with black roses and tied with what looked suspiciously like a leather ribbon. 

‘What is it?’ Anthea asked conspiratorially. She leaned low over the desk, looking genuinely intrigued. 

‘Nothing at all,’ Mycroft said pointedly, returning to his paperwork. He hadn’t counted on the parcel being wrapped quite so… romantically. Why did his sex life have to be so consistently embarrassing?

Anthea smirked at him, straightening up. ‘Of course.’ 

…

That night, Mycroft packed up early, and tucked the parcel under one arm before he left the office. Ignoring the amused looks he received from security (yet returning the rather different look he received from a particularly handsome member of the IT department) he strolled out into the evening air, before slipping into his car.

‘Your birthday, Sir?’ his driver asked him.

‘No, David,’ Mycroft shook his head as he pulled the door closed behind him. ‘A gift for a friend.’

‘I see,’ David said knowingly, as they pulled away, ‘Well, I’m sure she’ll just love it, Mr Holmes.’

…

‘’Good evening, my love,’ Mycroft smiled, entering the living room with the parcel cradled in his arms.

Greg grinned as he looked up at him. ‘Alright?’ he chuckled, eyeing the parcel.

‘What’s funny?’

‘You’ve never looked so camp,’ Greg chortled. ‘Who’s that for?’

‘You,’ Mycroft sighed passing his husband the box.

‘Oh.’ Greg frowned, ‘okay. Um… thanks.’

‘Open it,’ Mycroft ordered, taking a seat in his favourite armchair and watching avidly as Greg obediently tugged at the ribbon.

‘Is this leather?’ 

‘Keep going.’

Greg tore the paper away gracelessly, crumpling it up into a ball and chucking it across the room. He looked down at the box in his hands. ‘Mycroft…?’

‘Yes?’ Mycroft asked, leaning over to get a better look. This really was incredibly exciting.

‘Why have you bought me this?’

‘Why do you think?’ 

Greg frowned. ‘Is there… something wrong?’

Mycroft froze. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve just seemed a little… sex-obsessed recently. Am I doing something wrong?’

‘Not at all,’ Mycroft shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this. That’s why he had bought the damn thing in the first place. ‘I just want you to let you know I love you.’ He smiled encouragingly.

‘Right,’ Greg looked down at the box in his hands. ‘And you thought buying me _The Gay Fuck Game_ was the best way to do that?’

Well this wasn’t the enthusiasm Mycroft had been expecting. What had happened to his evening of passion? He checked his watch. It was seven already. They really should get on with it. He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, looking down at the floor and doing his best to look as sulky as possible. ‘I’m sorry. It was just an idea.’

‘You don’t have to apologise.’

‘We don’t have to play it.’

‘Well… maybe we could give it a go some day.’

‘You’re right,’ Mycroft nodded. ‘Not today. I’m sure you have better things to do that have sex with your husband this evening.’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ Greg rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Fine. We’ll play it this very minute. Won’t that be erotic? Shagging on the living room carpet over a tacky board game. My wildest dreams have come true.’

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, now genuinely sulking. ‘Would you rather use the kitchen?’

‘I’m not getting out of this, am I?’ his husband sighed in resignation.

Mycroft shook his head slowly.

‘I need to introduce you to some proper kinky activities.’ Greg said.

 _Oh._ Leaning forwards in his chair, Mycroft smiled alluringly. ‘Go on then.’

‘Not now,’ Greg grinned. ‘we’re playing The Gay Fuck Game remember?’

‘Yes, most amusing,’ Mycroft nodded, with a sarcastic smile. ‘I brought wine and chocolates. Shall I fetch them?’

‘Bloody hell,’ Greg muttered. ‘Fine.’

Mycroft leapt to his feet, ‘Excellent.’ He trotted out of the room, calling ‘take your shirt off,’ back over his shoulder. 

They sat on the rug in front of the fire, which Mycroft had lit for the occasion. Each had a glass of red wine, and there was a box of chocolates on the coffee table. In between them the board was laid out, lurid squares of pink and black glared up at them, and a thick pile of alarmingly named ‘challenge’ cards rested in the middle.

‘Are you excited?’ Mycroft asked, bravely. He took a sip of wine.

‘Yeah,’ Greg said flatly. ‘I’m so hard right now.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Mycroft sighed. ‘You should maybe get to work on that though,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘Shall I go first?’

‘I think you’d better.’

Mycroft shook the dice and rolled them carefully across the carpet. ‘Snake eyes,’ he smiled, moving his counter forward two squares. He picked up a pink challenge card as instructed.

‘I have to ‘nibble seductively on a snack’’ Mycroft read in mild relief. ‘I told you there was nothing to worry about,’ he continued, ignoring Greg’s chuckling. He chose a chocolate from the box and licked it, watching Greg from beneath his lashes, before bringing it to his lips and sucking at it, moaning as he did so.

Greg grinned. ‘Well done, love.’ He rolled the dice and moved five spaces, before choosing a black challenge card. ‘Blindfold your partner,’ his forehead creased, ‘and lick them all over.’

Mycroft smirked, ‘oh my…’ he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments/kudos/subscribing. x


	8. Talking Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'And how does it feel?'

**_Talk Dirty_**  
 _Let your man know just how much you want him. It'll give you both a confidence boost, and ensure your love making is ultra passionate._

Mycroft had no idea how to talk dirty… or why people bothered to do so. The concept baffled him. Surely once engaged in sexual intercourse both parties knew exactly what was going on? Why did some feel the need to provide a running commentary? And yet, if he wanted to expand his sexual horizons it was inevitable that he would have to try new things, and dirty talking was definitely next on the list.

He started small one Saturday morning at the sight of Gregory eating a banana as he read the newspaper. They were curled up together on the living room sofa, relaxing in the warm room and enjoying a little free time together.

‘Is that nice?’ Mycroft asked him, casually, setting his book aside.

‘Yeah,’ Greg shrugged, fully focused on watching Saturday Kitchen.

‘It tastes good?’ Mycroft pressed, watching him wrap his lips around it.

Gregory nodded, still paying him no attention. He took another large bite, eyes glued to the article before him.

‘And how does it feel?’ He was beginning to suspect he possessed a natural talent for this, and was suddenly looking forward to trying it out in the bedroom.

Gregory looked at him in bemusement, glancing down at the banana before meeting his eye and raising one eyebrow.

‘Firm?’ Mycroft prompted.

‘Are you doing this on purpose?’ his husband asked, setting the fruit to one side and folding his arms.

‘I’m sorry?’ He raised his eyebrows innocently. 

‘You are,’ Greg growled, folding the paper and setting it one side before crawling across the sofa to loom over him. He smelt delicious, and his casual t-shirt gaped to reveal a tempting expanse of fine chest hair. Mycroft buried his mouth into it without further ado.

‘I don’t know what you’re referring to,’ he murmured against the skin, letting his husband wrap his arms around him. 

‘Yes, you do,’ Gregory insisted pressing him down into the sofa cushions, ‘you dirty minded man.’

Mycroft chuckled in delight as Greg began pawing at his clothes. ‘Do you want to fuck me?’ he asked casually, reclining languidly in his seat, and letting the other man strip him of his shirt.

‘I don’t just want to. I’m going to.’

Sighing in delight, Mycroft reached around to grope at Gregory’s arse, squeezing it tightly. ‘Please do,’ he said, as seductively as possible

His husband jumped to his feet, and pulled him roughly up beside him working on his belt as he moved him backwards towards the bedroom. This was exactly the spontaneity Mycroft had been aiming for- sex at ten o’clock in the morning- and a small squeal of excitement erupted from him as he was abruptly picked up and thrown onto the bed. Gregory was on top of him before he had time to gather his senses, capturing his mouth in a passionate kiss. 

Mycroft moaned, running his hands up and down the man’s back, having snuck them beneath his shirt. He let his husband tug roughly at his trousers, and moved a hand down to guide Gregory’s fingers inside. 

Excitement building, he pushed the older man off him, rolling him backwards before attacking his belt buckle, breathing heavily as Gregory continued to rub at his hardening erection through the thin material of his briefs.

‘Gonna ride me?’ Greg asked him, watching in amusement as his trousers and underwear were pulled down and deposited gracelessly on the floor. 

Utterly failing to reprimand his husband for being so crude, Mycroft just nodded, his heart catching in his chest as the man pulled off his own shirt. Realising he was still half clothed, he stood up and pulled himself free of the garments, before rummaging in a side table for a condom and lube. 

Gregory waved the condom away when he was presented with it, but took the bottle of lube squeezing a handful into his open palm before slicking his cock with the liquid, moving his hand in long slow strokes. His eyes flickered closed in enjoyment, and Mycroft was forced to take over in order to get some attention. He prepared himself hurriedly, stuffing his fingers inside himself and allowing them to briefly flutter against his prostate. 

‘Ready?’ Greg asked.

‘Always,’ Mycroft smirked, beginning to slide into place. At that moment he realised he had failed to engage in any dirty talking thus far. Yet now didn’t seem like the best time to start. He let out a sigh of relief as Gregory was finally fully inside him, and began to rock gently, getting used to the stretch.

Greg groaned beneath him, beginning to thrust upwards to meet him. Deciding the moment was right, Mycroft began to speak. 

‘Mm…’ he moaned softly, as he bounced up and down on Greg’s hard cock. ‘You feel so good.’

Greg said nothing, his eyes squeezed closed, his hands tightly gripping Mycroft’s thighs. Mycroft wondered exactly what he had to say to get some kind of a response. All he had to go on were a few poor quality porn videos, which didn’t exactly offer the vibe he was going for. 

‘So hard…’ Mycroft continued, blushing a little. Still, needs must. ‘So… big.’

Greg’s eyes flickered open. ‘Um… Mycroft, love?’

‘Yes?’

‘What’s with the running commentary?’

Mycroft sighed heavily and stopped moving. ‘I’m talking dirty.’ As if it weren’t obvious enough. Really, his husband could be painfully slow sometimes. 

Realisation dawned in Greg’s eyes. He grinned. ‘Oh! Want me to show you how it’s done?’

‘I know how it’s done.’ Mycroft snapped, beginning to rock slowly backwards and forwards. ‘But please do join in.’

‘Okay,’ Greg smirked, ‘take it you filthy whore.’

‘Excuse me?’ Mycroft stopped moving again, giving his husband a reproachful look.

‘Go on,’ Greg frowned at him, thrusting upwards roughly, ‘I know you want it.’

Mycroft couldn’t help moaning slightly as his lover hit his prostate. He put his doubts to one side and resumed his movements.

‘Go on, baby’ Greg continued, ‘…you look so good, taking my cock. You love it don’t you?’

Mycroft whimpered, increasing his pace. 

‘Yeah, that’s it you little slut, take it hard and fast.’

Mycroft moaned wantonly, ‘oh..’ he murmured, ‘I…’

‘Did I say you could speak?’ his husband asked him, thrusting harder into him. 

‘N-no.’

‘Then don’t. Touch yourself.’

Mycroft obliged only too happily, tugging at his own cock as he rode Gregory’s length.

‘That’s it… nice and slow.’

Throwing his head back, he groaned as Greg’s hand joined his on his cock.

‘God, you feel so good in my hand. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think straight.’

‘Y-yes’

‘Beg for it,’

‘Please.’

‘Beg for it.’

‘Please… I… oh, _Gregory_.’

‘I love it when you say my name like that,’ Greg told him in a low voice, ‘it makes me so hard for you. All I can think about is having you. No matter where we are.’

Mycroft moaned wantonly. This was much more like it. He was finally getting some enthusiasm. ‘No matter where we are?’ he prompted.

‘I’d like to pull you into a darkened corner at one of those fancy dinners you drag me along to, and rip off your three piece suit and pound into you until you can barely walk.’

‘Oh,’ was all Mycroft could say, vaguely aware that he wasn’t really participating fully in this venture, but willing to submit to the fact his husband might surpass him in skill in  
such activities. 

‘Are you going to come for me?’ the man asked in a deep, smooth voice. 

Mycroft nodded in response, speeding up and groaning as Gregory did so too. He gasped as a torrent of pleasure flooded through him, and for one glorious moment nothing mattered but the burning heat between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm sorry my mind is so filthy.  
> Next chapter very soon.


	9. Living Your Fantasies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft is very bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter!

**_Live your fantasies_ **  
_Let your wildest dreams reign in the bedroom. Don’t let yourself get tied down, and never be afraid to play the field._

**11:57pm**

Mycroft cried out in excruciating pleasure as the man who was not his husband fucked him ruthlessly into the mattress. He grasped at the satin sheets, crushing the fabric in his hands, as he used the grip for better leverage. To be possessed so completely by a man he’d only just met was absolute bliss, and he whimpered as a rough hand began to pump at his erection. Torn between pushing back into the stranger’s thrusts and bucking forwards into the hand, he stayed absolutely still, trembling slightly on his hands and knees.

‘Oh,’ he murmured, ‘Oh God, Oh yes… yes… fuck me, fuck me… harder…. Oh god, harder, please harder.’

His partner increased his pace, slamming his hips forward in order to take him with powerful force.

‘ Yes, oh, yes,’ Mycroft encouraged him, forgetting every last shred of his dignity. ‘Harder,’ he demanded again. ’Yes… Please…. YES… YES… FUCK ME… YES.’

He screamed as his orgasm tore through him, and rocked his hips through it, fucking himself against the man’s large cock and whimpering as the firm hand around him milked every last drop.

Falling away into a dream-like haze he let the events of the past hour wash over him.

...

**10:31pm:**

Mycroft sat alone at the bar, sipping a martini and occasionally glancing at the other patrons. The room was full of men laughing, drinking and flirting. It wasn’t exactly his usual scene.

He tapped his fingers against the polished surface of the bar watching the sparkling light of a hundred beer glasses reflected in the mirror which hung behind it. In the glass, an approaching figure caught his attention. The man was tall, dark and powerfully built… and eyeing him up like a piece of prey.

Swallowing the last of his drink, he swung around on the bar stool as the man’s hand landed on his shoulder. Mycroft tensed.

‘Alright, gorgeous?’ the stranger asked with a grin, leaning in close so as to be heard over the music.

‘Excuse me?’ Mycroft raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

The man took a step forwards. ‘Can I get you another drink?’

‘I don’t think so.’ He reclined in his seat, elbows on the bar behind him and cocked his head to examine the man. He was dressed in slightly torn jeans and a black leather jacket, his hair was tousled and his eyes dark.

‘No?’ the stranger asked, with a lewd smile. He leaned forward in order to murmur into his ear, his warm breath brushing Mycroft’s jaw whilst the intoxicating scent of cologne snaked its way around him. ‘What about your number?’

Mycroft sniffed disdainfully, ignoring the heat pooling in his groin. ‘Do you really think I would waste my time on a man like you?’

The man sat down on the nearest barstool, close enough for their arms to brush. They both stared unseeingly into the crowd.

‘Playing hard to get, Mycroft?’ the stranger eventually murmured.

‘How do you know my name?’ Mycroft asked, shooting him a dangerous look, his heart beating hard in his chest.

The man grinned, looking as if he were enjoying himself immensely. ‘I’m a detective.’

‘Have you been spying on me?’ Mycroft asked, sipping at his martini and adopting an air of extreme mystery.

‘I couldn’t help myself,’ he shrugged. ‘You in those posh suits, with your sexy voice and… and… stuff.’

Mycroft looked down at his ‘posh suit’. He had made a particularly fine choice today. The fabric was a soft grey wool, laced with fine blue checks.

He raised an eyebrow and deepened his voice. ‘I could have you arrested.’

‘I’m not the one who’ll be ending the night in handcuffs.’

The man looked him up and down and licked his lips. Mycroft raised a delicate eyebrow.

‘Is that a threat?’

The man leaned in and hooked a finger under his collar tugging Mycroft’s head to one side in order to press his mouth against an ear. ‘It’s a promise,’ he murmured.

...

**10:50pm**

‘I have a husband,’ Mycroft gasped as he was shoved back into the wall of the alleyway. Like a common whore he had let himself be led from the bar, and now he was paying the price. The man’s hand went straight for his crotch, rubbing his already hard cock through the thin fabric of his suit trousers. Mycroft closed his eyes and struggled for breath, sucking in the cold evening air. The alley was dark and deserted, and they lurked in the shadows.

‘Don’t you want to be bad?’ the stranger asked him, bucking his own hips forward to make his own arousal obvious. He sucked hard on Mycroft’s neck who didn’t have the heart to stop him. Besides it wouldn’t be the first time if Anthea had to do lend him her concealer the next morning.

‘I shouldn’t,’ he groaned. He let the other man sweep his tongue around the inside of his mouth, before turning his head to one side, still panting slightly. ‘Do you want me?’

‘I want you.’ Growling his response the man proved his point by tugging on the zip of Mycroft’s suit trousers. He slipped a hand inside to caress him through his underwear. ‘I want to make you mine.’

‘Ah,’ Mycroft sighed dramatically, pushing the hand away. ‘But I couldn’t possibly. My husband.’

The stranger growled in annoyance, ‘maybe your husband could join us?’ He raised a threatening eyebrow.

‘No,’ Mycroft shook his head. Whilst he would have liked to have been chased for a little longer, and with a little more enthusiasm, he decided to submit. He was quite ready for bed himself now. ‘He’s away. Take me home.’

...

**11:40pm**

Greg had no idea what had happened to his husband, but he was definitely enjoying it. Admittedly, he hadn’t liked Mycroft’s idea at first. He’d already seduced the man once, after all. Starting from scratch seemed like a bit of a faff. Suffice to say role-playing wasn’t normally his cup of tea, but this… well this had definitely been worth the fuss.

He had never seen Mycroft look quite so turned on in all the time he’d known him. His clothes lay in a dishevelled pile at the foot of the bed where they had been torn of him by his frenzied lover and now the man was a gasping, whining, writhing wreck underneath him.

Grinning, he fucked him still harder into the mattress below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fancied switching up the structure a little. Let me know if you think it worked... or not!  
> The tenth and final chapter will be up within a week. (Probably)


	10. A New Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change...

_**Discover a new position**  
There are over 60 different positions in the Kama Sutra, so there's no excuse to not try a new one at least once a week!_

‘How is Gregory, Sir?’ Anthea asked brightly as the car pulled away from the kerb. She pocketed her blackberry and watched him intently. 

‘Fine,’ Mycroft nodded, ‘Just fine, thank you, Anthea.’ He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, alarmed by the level of interest she was displaying. She said nothing just nodded, and continued to watch him until Mycroft finally cracked. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Things have improved?’ Anthea prompted, lowering her voice and leaning towards him conspiratorially.

Mycroft sat very still in the cool leather seat. ‘What things? Since when?’

‘Since you borrowed my magazine, on the flight from New York,’ her lips trembled as she said the words, as if she was holding back laughter.

Taking a very deep breath, Mycroft smoothed his suit and straightened his tie, employing his most imposing expression. His assistant watched him blandly. ‘This is not an appropriate conversation.’

‘Oh, Mycroft,’ Anthea sighed, shuffling across the seat towards him. ‘We’ve shared a bed. You can tell me about your love life.’

‘I do not wish to tell you about my love life.’

‘Well you should talk to Gregory,’ Anthea told him seriously. ‘He’ll know what to do.’

‘Excuse me,’ Mycroft glowered at her as the car slid to a halt outside his town house. ‘ _I_ know what to do.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ Anthea returned to her side of the car as the driver opened Mycroft’s door. She withdrew her blackberry and winked at him. ‘Have a good evening.’

Mycroft sashayed into the house depositing his suit jacket and briefcase on the floor, before sweeping off in search of his husband. He was determined to prove Anthea wrong. At the sight of the unsuspecting man walking towards him down the hallway, he gave his best ‘come hither’ look, and slung himself over him, running his hands up and down his back whilst he kissed his neck.

‘Bedroom, then?’ Greg asked with wide eyes, as he was backed into a corner.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft agreed, tugging on the man’s shirt buttons as they made their way to bed.

They fell on the sheets together, their arms and legs entangled as they kissed. Mycroft let himself be undressed slowly, before propping himself up on his elbows to watch Gregory strip. 

‘I was hoping we could try something a little different,’ he explained, as he was slung mercilessly onto his front. 

‘Of course you were,’ Greg sighed wearily from behind him, ‘and what was that?'

‘Ah, well,’ Mycroft beamed delightedly, ‘now you just position yourself like this… yes that’s it… and I’ll show you.’

‘Um… oh… okay…’ Greg watched his movements in astonishment.. ‘…I still don’t know what we’re doing.’

Mycroft shifted slightly, finally settling into place. He re-arranged Greg’s arms and legs and hummed in mild interest. This was certainly a novelty. ‘There… now thrust.’

‘Right…’ Greg muttered, and Mycroft gasped in delight as a searing pleasure shot straight through him. He closed his eyes and hung on for dear life. His husband obliged for a few devastatingly short minutes before swearing loudly ‘Bloody hell.’

‘What is it?’ Mycroft asked breathlessly, trying not to moan like a common whore.

‘Do you have any… other suggestions?’ Greg asked, panting slightly.

‘No.’ Mycroft lied immediately. He hadn’t expected this one to be such a success. He whimpered happily as Greg hit his prostate. ‘Why… do… you ask?’

Greg huffed beneath him, ‘because this one is bloody hard work.’ 

‘No it isn’t,’ Mycroft managed, in between gasps.

‘Not for you,’ his husband hissed in exasperation. ‘Do people really do this?’

‘We are.’ He pointed out. ‘relax… you’re doing- oh, yes- b-brilliantly’

Gregory stopped moving.

‘What are you doing?’ Mycroft frowned, recovering enough to form a coherent sentence. ‘Why have you stopped?’

‘You told me to relax.’

‘Well, not that much,’ Mycroft sighed. ‘That’s the one place I don’t want you relaxed.’

‘Sorry.’ Greg shrugged, ‘wasn’t working for me.’

‘It must,’ Mycroft scowled. ‘My research indicated that this position gives maximum pleasure to both parties.’

‘Why are you researching sex positions?’ Greg asked him. ‘If you have a problem with what we normally do, why not just tell me?’ He pushed him away and stood up, pulling on his dressing gown.

‘Fine,’ Mycroft snapped, sitting up. ‘I will.’ He crossed his arms and pouted. ‘It’s boring.’

Greg raised his eyebrows and placed his hands on his hips. ‘Boring, am I?’

Mycroft rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled into the fabric squeezing his eyes closed and covering his ears. The door slammed as his husband left the room.

A moment later he heard Gregory return, but ignored the man, unwilling to argue. His eyes were just beginning to feel hot and prickly, when a heavy weight landed on his back, and with a chink of metal his wrists were bound and suddenly attached to the headboard. He lifted his head, blinking in surprise. 

‘Gregory?’ he queried, looking over his shoulder to see his lover had removed his dressing gown and was sat firmly on top of him, pinning him in place. Mycroft tugged on the handcuffs securing him. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Livening things up,’ Greg told him, pressing his head gently yet firmly back down into the pillow. ‘You’re going to wish you never called me boring, Mr Holmes.’

‘Am I?’ Mycroft squirmed, beginning to take an interest in proceedings, as Gregory’s hands began to run over his body.

His husband chuckled behind him. ‘Yep.’ 

…

By the time Gregory had finally finished with him, Mycroft was exhausted. He lay slack on the bed, his heart beating heavily and every inch of his body burning with warmth. A bead of sweat travelled down his forehead.

‘How was that?’ Greg asked cheerfully, finally unlocking the handcuffs. He was pink faced and out of breath, but looking very smug indeed.

‘Most pleasant,’ Mycroft murmured dreamily.

His lover leaned in to kiss him, slowly and sweetly. ‘Are you happy with our sex life now?’

Mycroft nodded, opening his eyes to meet the man’s gaze. ‘Oh, yes.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> Thank you so much if you got this far.  
> And thank you to everyone who has commented/given kudos/subscribed. It's kept me going.
> 
> I'm working on another full length fic, which will be very different to this one. In the mean time, you can find me writing drabbles on tumblr at [Drabbling in Mystrade.](http://drabblinginmystrade.tumblr.com)  
> So if you like, send me a prompt there.
> 
> x


End file.
